1Hey guys! This was a prompt for my BadThingsHappensBingo Card on Tumblr.
I wasn't really sure what to do for this one, since I really don't write the Delanceys all that often anymore. And I know some people don't like giving the a redemption arc, which... I don't fully understand, but it is what it is, I suppose.
Anyways, this is set in really whatever time period ya'll want. It's pretty vague and pretty short but it does have one or two homophobic slurs in it, so beware!
He had no idea how he ended up here. Sitting against the wall of the bathroom at Jacobi's bar.
He hadn't meant to defend anyone. It was never in his nature. He'd been conditioned not to. He'd been conditioned to not care. Him and his brother.
If someone couldn't fight back for themselves, they deserved to be beat. It's what Wiesel always said.
But that kid… he didn't deserve to be spoken to like that. He didn't deserve to be hit just because he was trying to be happy.
"Morris…" somebody called. Morris tried to open his eyes. But it didn't work. "Morris… we called an ambulance. N' we called Oscar… but ya gotta stay awake. God, please just stay awake…"
The kid sounded frantic.
"Racer, take a breather—"
"Let go of me!"
Morris coughed. Something tasted horrible.
"Jack, he's coughin' up blood!"
"Race, go out n' let those cops take your statement. I'll be out in a minute…" For a moment nothing happened. "Tony, now," the other man eventually stressed.
It was a long moment before Morris heard someone shuffle away. And someone else helped him sit up. "Okay, Morris just breathe for me…"
He hadn't meant to get in the middle of it. But the look on that kid's face had been so familiar.
"Oh are you married?"
"No… it's… it's just a promise ring… he gave it ta me before he went into the military right after high school… he's comin' back in a few weeks—"
"I'm sorry, did you say 'he'?"
The young bartender looked up. His blue eyes were a bit frightened when he realized what he let slip. He shouldn't have to be scared of it.
That's what caught Morris's attention.
"Um… yeah… yeah, it's my boyfriend," he stated, clearly trying to be brave and failing. His coworker, his foster brother, Morris remembered, had just gone on break. The kid was out here alone. And he was now avoiding eye contact with the big stranger.
Morris had been coming to this bar for years now. It was the best one in his hometown. Good music, good beer and easy to access. Only problem was, everyone he went to high school with was there too. Some of them even worked there.
"I'm sorry… is there someone else working tonight?"
"I'm the only one not on break…" the kid stated, wanting away from the situation.
Morris took a sip of his drink, swallowing hard as he tried not to make it obvious that he was fully invested in this conversation.
"I'm sorry, I'm not going to give my money to some fag. I think what you do is disgusting and I won't support it."
Morris flinched at the ugly word, looking up at the boy who he used to steal money from in high school. Race had been a freshman. He'd been a senior. He was sure he'd bullied the kid into doing homework for him from time to time.
Maybe that's why Jack had always started fights with him back then.
The man could remember walking through the halls with his brother, watching all the other students duck their heads, hoping they weren't their next victim. Sometimes Morris wished he could go back and change it.
After all, the only reason he picked on those kids is because Wiesel couldn't know that he was just like them. Scared. Alone. Terrified.
Queer.
He felt sick.
"Uh-hm… m-my… J-Jack will be back out in a few minutes… I'm—"
"Is that your manager, cause I wanna talk to him."
"Okay… he's just gonna be a few minutes…"
"I'm sorry, are you stupid too? No, I asked to see your manager. You're disgusting and I will not be finishing my night talking to you. In fact, I'll be taking back the tip—"
"S-sir, please, I'm not hurting anyone… I'm just tryin' ya do my job—" Race stuttered, trying to reason with the man.
But the stranger stood, knocking over his stool as he did so.
Morris winced, picking up his beer, almost heading towards the door, unable to watch this, before he heard the definite sound of a fist connecting with flesh.
He froze at that, like so many others did.
He willed himself to just walk away. This wasn't his fight. If Race wanted to win, he could.
"Get offa me!" the boy cried.
Morris hadn't spoken to Race in years. Despite frequenting the bar where he worked, he made it a point to talk mostly to the waitresses rather than the bartenders. He didn't like to think about what he'd done to that poor kid.
No doubt the boy still hadn't forgiven him for any of it.
Morris wouldn't blame him.
He heard the kid scream.
And he couldn't just walk away this time.
The young man took another swig of his beer before setting it back on the counter and turning around to find Race struggling against an iron fist tightening in the front of his shirt. The man's arm was reared back for another hit, probably to match the swelling right eye.
Morris let out a breath and let instinct take over for the first time in his life.
And suddenly he was on top of the man.
Or the man was on top of him.
He just couldn't remember.
"Hey, hey, are ya with me? Cmon, man, I know we ain't never gotten along, but ya still got a life ta live…"
Morris coughed again. This time he could feel the blood that dripped from his lips. "Wh-where's Oz?" he asked, his voice small and weak.
"He's comin'. But we gotta get you to a hospital—"
"Jack—" he was cut off by another fit. Jack's hand came down on his back. It was an odd feeling. He'd never been comforted by anyone other than Oscar. The second someone tried, he'd clam up and shove them away. But not this time. "I-I'm sorry—"
"Delancey, you mighta' been a real dick in high school, but I'm pretty sure ya just saved my brother's life, so let's just call it even, alright?" Jack rushed out. Morris let his eyes slide open, just able to make out the blurry image of the guy who used to be his nemesis. He looked almost frantic. Morris let out a breathy groan when something pressed over his stomach. It felt soft, like a sweatshirt of some kind. He tried to push the hands away. But he was too tired. "No, man… c'mon, you ain't goin' down like this. That guy was drunk. Ya really wanna die by beer bottle?"
It was almost a joke. Morris laughed. "B-betta' n' how y'r g'nna die…" he choked out, his hands over Jack's as he tried to help stop the bleeding.
"Oh yeah? How'm I goin' out?" Jack challenged, a relieved smile on his face when he found that Morris was still smug as ever.
"Pr'obly gonna jump off a buildin' on a dare…" he slurred.
Jack shrugged. "Hey, that ain't so bad. Least people will know I ain't chicken, right?"
Morris grunted as the pressure increased. The door was pushed open and Race rushed back into the room. "The ambulance just got here! Morris, you're gonna be okay—"
The kid was cut off as EMTs rushed in and ushered him out of the way. Jack tried to move, but, in a move of desperation, Morris reached back for him, and Jack took his hand. "Hey, you're gonna be alright, man…"
"J'st… wan' Oscar…" he breathed.
"Oscar's coming, Morris. Promise," Jack assured, giving him a nod as he was maneuvered onto the stretcher and the team began to rush him to the ambulance.
"'Kay…" he breathed as they began to strap him down.
Race bit his lip as he watched them take the man away. Jack put an arm around his shoulders to steady him but the kid was still trembling. "H-he defended me, Jack…" the twenty one year old let out shakily.
Jack nodded. "Yeah, kid… I know…" he sighed out.
The pair watched the bully as he was rushed back through the bar, clinging to life.
And there you have it!
As always, thanks for reading! Make sure to tell me what you liked, what you didn't like, what you'd change or what you'd improve by leaving me a review! Love ya, fansies!
